P.C. Evans

Cadaver Dog Cantos

Whether writhing on a dormitory bedIn this cheap hotelWith a Medusan flapperWith her pubic liceAnd a quarter of cocaine

Or staggering through the gutterTransfixed by the pinned black starsOf a street whore’s eyes

Whether my guts are teased By the hunting knifeOf a psychopathic mindMy own shell-shocked blade, plungedInto the sweating bar

When the dawn transpires on the cadaversOf Les DemoisellesAnd the effluence of the city is swilled From their stinking limbsAnd out through the locks of my mind

I see such a vision Of beautyThe rouged carrion girls, asphyxiating In bell jars, like brain-stem foetuses floatingIn a formaldehyde seaOr wildflowers rootedIn crumbling masonryCultivated by lover-boysTo be plucked for preyAnd cast awayConsoled only by the flotsam of AfricaWho purvey a chemical UtopiaTo alleviate the ennuiOf the children of the west

And then, like a dumbstruck SaulOn the road to TarsusI could almost fall to my knees In gratitudeAnd assume the position hereAnd finger the stickOf the ground-hurtling cockpitOf this Our yearning, churning worldOr sty